


of course I love you

by coldcoffees



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Memories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldcoffees/pseuds/coldcoffees
Summary: It’s not like he hasn’t thought of Betty all these years. In fact he always thinks about Betty. It’s something he can’t control, like she is a part of him and thus always in everything he sees, hears, feels.It’s like, no matter what he does, everything always comes back to Betty Cooper.The first guitar chords in every melody. The sound of leaves gliding in the wind. The smell of coffee he knows she can't live without or the sweet taste of a strawberry milkshake on a hot summer evening.But he thought that after all this time away from her -five fucking years- the pain would be less vivid. He thought that those flashes would stop haunting him all the time, loud, so loud.He was wrong.He was so wrong.
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper
Comments: 22
Kudos: 53





	1. prologue

**perfection,** _noun [ U ]:_ **_the state of being complete and correct in every way._**

Coming back to Riverdale after all these years is weird for him. It shouldn't be. But it is. Mainly because this town undeniably brings back hundreds of memories. Happy memories. Bloody memories.

He always thought he'd never really leave Riverdale-his home- behind; that it was a part of him. And that he was a part of it too.

He was wrong. It wasn't about Riverdale. It never was. 

_Home has nothing to do with houses or towns or places. Home is people._

_Family. Friends. Best friends. Soulmates._

So, when Archie Andrews finally steps into Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe for the first time in years, he instantly feels a knot forming in his throat. The smell of burgers and fries, the smiling and comforting face of Pop Tate but also the sound of gunshots and scent of blood, dust, dirt; everything was hitting him in the face violently. This place he always loved and cherished had witnessed so many things -bursts of joy and cries of pain- that even after he promised himself not to, he lets memories take control of his brain. _Hot summer. Cold ice-tea. Jughead Jones. Milkshakes. The Black Hood. His father. Betty Cooper._

Her honey hair and ocean eyes were always the first things he saw every single time he walked into Pop’s. It was true then, still is now. Her bright smile and his silly jokes are the memories that surpass all others and remains stuck in his head.

_“when I think Archie of where I feel safest, and most myself, I think of us, in a booth, at Pop’s”_

_“me too”_

Archie walks in and he can almost see her sitting at their spot, eating some french fries while waiting for him -she was always early, he was always late- and scrolling through her phone. She would always order food for both of them (because of course she knew exactly what he wanted) but wait him to choose their milkshakes. 

_“but that’s not true anymore.”_

Damn it hurts. 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought of Betty all these years. In fact he always thinks about Betty. It’s something he can’t control, like she is a part of him and thus always in everything he sees, hears, feels.

It’s like, no matter what he does, everything always comes back to Betty Cooper. 

The first guitar chords in every melody. The sound of leaves gliding in the wind. The smell of coffee he knows she can't live without or the sweet taste of a strawberry milkshake on a hot summer evening. _Her favorite_. 

And so, as he turns around to take a glance at what used to be their favorite seats (because he can’t control himself, never had, never will), their safe place, his heart misses a beat. Because right in front of him, across the window, so close but yet so far, stands Betty Cooper. It’s dark outside (past midnight) but he spots her right away. He could recognize her among every crowds everywhere.

She is here; they’re both here. It’s like the universe, ironic and vicious, had decided to mock them; pushing them towards each other without any warning.

He thought that after all this time away from her - _five fucking years_ \- the pain would be less vivid. He thought that flashes would stop haunting him all the time, loud, _so loud._ He thought that after all this time he would have forget and move on. Hell, even finally _heal_. He was wrong.

_He was so wrong._

He realized it the minute he saw her face behind the large window.  
He realized it the minute he felt the ache in his chest and the knot in his throat.

He wasn’t over Betty Cooper. And he probably never will be.

_How could he?_

Now more than ever, he feels like he is drowning in memories, sinking slowly but deeply under laughs and tears, smiles and cries. The absence -her absence, her friendship- presses on his bleeding wound. His body reacts brutally, his mind is on fire. There's nothing he can do about it. Her face, her voice, her smell, it's all etched in his flesh and there's no escape from it.

He knew he was missing her. _Of course._ But being away was easier. He could numb the pain and pretend everything was fine.

_Even when nothing was._

Betty looks at him from outside as shock as he is and he can’t think properly. Their last conversations goes on and on in his head; like an old song stuck in his brain he desperately tries to erase but which always comes back stronger when he least expects it. Betty Cooper had always been Archie Andrews’ melody, constantly in the back of his mind, even when he wasn’t aware.

_"would you have left without saying goodbye? After all these years of friendship? how could you not tell me?" her voice is low, unsteady and he knows she is sad, angry, hurt even though she tries to hide it._

_“I wanted to. But I couldn’t.”_

_“Me, Arch. I get why you would keep it a secret from Jughead or Veronica or everybody else. I get it. But me? That’s unfair. Our friendship is supposed to mean more than that.”_

_“I couldn’t.” it’s like it’s the only thing he can say. His brain is frozen as an other scene goes on in his mind. Another night, another dress, another kind of pain “it was too hard.”_

_“If you’re happy…” but he cuts her off right away._

_“I’m not.” he sighs because his mouth goes faster than his brain and he can’t stop “you know I’m not.”_

_Betty doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t trust herself to not completely burst into tears if she dares speak._

_“Are you?”_

_Silence. The air around them is hot and thick but Archie’s heart is beating so fast he can’t hear or feel anything else._

_“I can’t stop thinking about you. Us. What we are, what we was. What we could have been.”_

_“Stop” her voice cracks and tears are beginning to fall down her cheeks. Again. She takes a second to wipe them away and stare at the boy next door “stop that. You have no right. Why are you doing this? Stop doing this.”_

_It’s striking. Same street, same door, same kind of pain. She can’t do this. Not again._

_"I'm… I just… I don’t know” his voice too is shaking and he is surprise he hasn’t start crying because his heart is, for sure “But I’ve been thinking and I know it’s selfish and unfair to you and I know I’m three years late but… I need to tell you.”_

_He stops abruptly because he sees the flash of pain in her eyes, the exact same one she had on this cold dark night he broke both their hearts -his bleeds the exact same way._

_He hates himself for hurting her. But his mouth keeps going on._

_“I need to tell you and I need you to tell me” but this is too much and the girl next door starts to flee, face cracking, body trembling and he wants to hug her and make her pain go away but he can’t._

_He can’t._

_“Betty, wait!" and although she is running away from this, from him, she turns around at the sound of his voice, because of course she does._

_"no, don't say anything. Please don't." she takes a deep breath, just a few more seconds and everything will be over, “because I can’t give you the answer you want.”_

_Her body flips, her blonde hair flying in the hot july air._

_Hearts broken, souls screaming._

_The hardest few seconds of their lives._

He has played this scene in his head thousands of times already. He couldn’t stop thinking about it then, still can’t now. _Impossible_.

Their last week in Riverdale had been chaotic for sure. A huge explosion, an incandescent fire that had washed them away like they were nothing else but puppets in a horror movie.

But even after all the horrible things he has witnessed, mistakes he has done, today it’s this one moment that haunt him. The tears in her eyes, his broken heart and the dark clouds above their unspoken feelings. 

_“of course I love you.”_

_“you are so perfect.”_

_“I’ve never been good enough for you. I’ll never be good enough for you.”_

He was so wrong. 


	2. you still care for me, I still care for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the comments and likes and views and everything :)  
> hope you all take care of yourself and your loved ones.

**_*pretend,_ ** _verb [ I ]:_ **_behave so to make it appear that something is the case when in fact it is not._ **

_Breathe_. 

_Everything is going to be okay._

_You’ve got this._

She tries to focus on the words in her head as she stops the car but her fingers are shaking. _Fuck_. It is way harder than she thought it would be.

As she cuts the engine off, the street goes back to silence and darkness. Her childhood house is standing right in front of her, identical but curiously much more massive than she remembered.

She wants to throw up. 

She isn’t used to pretend anymore. There was a time when she wouldn’t have had any problem getting out of the car, voice loud and joyful but mind and body on fire, tired - _so tired_ \- from all the lies she had to carry around. It was a time where she would smile and laugh when she just wanted to cry and scream. She would say yes, no, maybe, even when she felt sick to her stomach. 

Yes, old Betty Cooper was good at pretending. Always had been. It was how she lived. It was how she _survived_.

Old Betty Cooper would have let her screams die in her throat. Old Betty Cooper would have silence her tears and thoughts easily, without even care about how her head was on the edge of exploding. She would have let emptiness fill her chest and those vicious voices whisper in her ears, always soft but always so fucking loud, so there was no escape. _Never_.

Old Betty Cooper would have stuck her fingernails in the palms of her hands and wait for the sweet release, for the blood to finally match the pain she was forced to swallow and burry every single day.

Well, not anymore.

New Betty Cooper is stronger. Speaking for herself. _Fighting_ for herself. Embracing everything she is.

No more blood. No more pretending.

_Breathe. It’s okay. You can do this._

She’s been repeating this mantra over and over again since she saw the “ _Welcome to Riverdale_ ” sign on her way over but, as always, her mind keeps wandering wildly, thoughts viciously invading her brain, so bright, so loud, so overwhelming. It’s crazy how powerful memories can be, how they can get under the skin and suddenly take over. Ten minutes in Riverdale and Betty already feels like the seventeen years-old she was when she left town five years ago. The not-so perfect girl next door, always kind and gentle and smiling on the outside but hurting, craving, screaming on the inside _._

 _Breathe_.

It’s late, later than she expected and Betty knows her mother is probably going to have something to say about it _-because she always has something to say about everything-_ but she doesn’t care. At least she can breathe properly (well she can try); the shadows of the night bringing her some peace and relief. She can easily hide in the dark, slow down, try to collect herself, keep it together, and avoid any unnecessary pain or unpleasant encounters. 

Like a red headed neighbor aka childhood best friend aka first love. And first heartbreak.

_Stop it Betty. Just breathe._

She doesn’t even know why she agreed to come back. Well she knows it's for Polly but she could have easily skip the two weeks of planning and only come for the actual wedding. It’s not the first time her mother tries to lure her back in town but each time, she had been able to escape it; impassive to Alice’s protests and unaffected by her ruthless remarks or other attempts to make her feel guilty. Riverdale was behind her. Crossed and forgotten.

Except it wasn’t. 

_Except it never will be_.

Betty is aware- _even though she already knew it long before cults, serial killers and missing teenagers_ \- that Riverdale has an unhealthy grip on its people, bringing out the worst in them. Those years away had help her realize how wicked her adolescence had been, how _unhealthy_. A succession of events that had gradually pushed her into a blurred and frightening reality; a reality where it wasn't about living but about surviving. Without any warning she had been sinking into cold waters while desperately trying to stay on the surface; always fighting for air, for time, for peace.

Just always fighting. 

Riverdale had slowly taken over her life and everybody’s else’s. A hold from which Betty had only been able to escape by running away without looking back. Ever.

 _Well, are you going to move or what?_ her inner voice whisper and Betty shivers because it sounds a lot like her mother’s voice; pressing and arrogant but also so worried _all the time_. 

Because the voice becomes louder, Betty sighs and finally gets out of the car. The air is heavy and hot but there are dark and low clouds in the sky, ready to burst into a violent storm anytime now. She is so tired that she decides to just let her suitcase in the trunk of her car and heads towards the house. _There it is._ Her knees are shaking and she can’t seem to catch her breath. _So much for holding it together._ Her footsteps - her feelings- are heavy as she violently fights the urge to look behind her shoulder.

_God how she wants to throw up._

She thought that setting foot in Riverdale was hard, well, it was nothing compare to walking those few steps that now separate her from the bright red front door. _Obviously_ she was delusional when she thought she would be able to repress and fight back the flow of memories that came with this _fucking_ front door. 

Ten minutes in Riverdale and she already feels like the seventeen years-old broken hearted girl she was when she left town five years ago. Not that it is surprising. Betty should have seen it coming. And so, still standing in the middle of the way, incapable of moving, thinking, breathing she curses herself for being so light, so naive about all this because of course it’s impossible to be back here and not think about Archie Andrews. 

_“I’m asking you right now if you love me Archie. Or even like me?”_

_“Of course I love you Betty. But I can’t give you the answer you want.”_

Her blood his boiling in her veins and she feels a rush of anger pass through her body, like it’s going to burst into flames.

_“So whatever this is, or was; it’s just over.”_

It’s like she is being stabbed in the chest again and again, indefinitely, without any rest. It’s like someone is stealing her oxygen leaving her panting, feverish, empty. The words are echoing in her brain, strong and powerful but also in the air, floating above her corpse as if her thoughts -so high and so loud- had turned into piercing screams through the silence; through the rest; through the peace. 

_Don’t look._

The voice in her head is a lot less confident now. Still pressing. Still coldly arrogant. But unsure, trembling, broken.

_Don’t fucking look._

But before Betty can think about it, it’s too late. Her eyes are already searching for him, a physiological need she fought so hard to repress for so long, a hole in her heart she tried to ignore for five years, a deep painful screaming wound in her soul. She looks at the house -his house- and it’s even worse.

All of a sudden, she can feel Archie right next to her. So close. She feels his minty breath, his body heat, his hand in hers. She hears the chords on the guitar and his voice -his damn voice- humming some lyrics she doesn’t want to remember.

_“I thought she is not made for this world”_

Her mind is collapsing within seconds and Betty closes her eyes because it’s the only way she’s found to not cry right here, right now. 

In the middle of way, in the middle of the dark, no escaping, no pretending, Archie is whispering in her ear, so loud, so clear she can swear he is here with her. It’s like all her memories of him, of them, are alive, dancing through the air, falling from the sky above her very still body. 

_“And neither am I”_

Tears are piling up behind her eyelids, so much, so sad, so furious, it’s physically hurting her. 

_Breathe_ . _It’s going to be okay._

Yet she can’t help but wonder. _Where is he? What is he doing? Is he here, in Riverdale? Is he happy?_

_Did he forgive and forget everything?_

She wants to see him. She wants to hear him. 

_Stop this._

“Elizabeth! Thank God you’re finally here. Where on earth have you been? You were supposed to be here two hours ago!” her mother’s voice hits her violently (a hint of accusation but mostly concern and joy -pressing, overwhelming joy), interrupting her inner battle and Betty abruptly opens her eyes, quickly wiping away the few tears she couldn’t hold back. 

_Did he moved on?_

_Did she?_

She knows she has to walk to the front door to join her mother, smile at her and maybe even hug her but her knees are still weak. She can’t breathe. She isn’t used to pretend anymore. 

_Clearly, she didn’t._

_She cannot stop crying. Tears are coming out of her eyes furiously, making her breathing almost impossible. It started the minute she closed the front door, the minute she turned away from him, his soft face, his bright eyes. She feels like her soul is being torn apart -again- like somehow she left her heart behind; outside; with the heavy clouds and the hot summer breeze. With Archie._

_She cannot stop crying._

_She wants to turn back and hug him. She wants to kiss him._

_But she can’t._

_She loves Jughead, there is no doubt about that. And he loves Veronica. Archie and her had their shot and he let it go. He let it go and now it’s too late, no matter what he says. No matter how much he thinks about “what they could have been”, no matter his feelings. Hers. Theirs._

_That’s what she keeps repeating herself as she walks up the stairs, eyes still wet -she feels like she’ll never be able to stop crying-, nails still stuck in the palms of her hands, mind still screaming in pain._

_They had their shot. It’s too late now. She did the right thing. She did what she had to._

_What the perfect girl would have done._

_Thankfully nobody’s home. Her mom, FP and Jellybean are out to the movies and Jughead is still working on some new video tapes sent to the sheriff's office in the bunker. She is supposed to join him, and help him but she can’t. She is a mess._

_She just want to sleep until tomorrow night._

_But of course he is right by the window as she enters her room. Betty knows she should move, close the curtains, go to bed -do something, anything- but she is paralyzed again. Archie is looking at her the way he always did, like she is his favorite person in the world, like he could spend the rest of his life under the bright sun, listening to some old songs with her, and that’s even more painful._

_Because she knows she is looking at him the exact same way._

_Across the window, Archie grabs his phone and taps on the screen. His eyes goes back on her the second she feels her phone vibrating in the back pocket of her shorts._

_Arch:_ _  
_ _“I’m sorry.”_

_She did the right thing. She loves Jughead. He loves Veronica. They both are exactly where they are supposed to be. Right?_

_Then why does it feels so wrong?_

_She is crying again. And this time he is crying too._

_Betty:_ _  
_ _“I’m sorry too.”_

_Archie is a part of her. A part of what she is. What she wants to be. It’s not just about friendship. Or love. It’s so much more._

_That’s what make the heartbreak even worse._

#

“Well, you must be tired. You should probably get some sleep honey” Alice says as she stands up from the bed.

Betty jumps. She didn’t realize she zoned out. Again. Luckily nor did Alice, too tangled up in her own emotions. 

She feels like she is underwater. Everything is harder; talking, listening, breathing. The shadow of the house next door is filling every space. The window she is so actively ignoring a heavy weight on her shoulders. 

Pain has transferred from her head to her bones. 

_Focus Betty._

Betty looks at her mother and nods, holding a sigh of relief in the back of her throat. 

Of course she wants to catch up with her mother (even though she FP and her came to visit a month ago) but she is indeed tired. And sad. And also, she is perfectly unable to just casually _chat_ because right now she is sitting on her old bed of her old bedroom and it is way too disturbing. Being here is strange; she feels like she is dreaming. Everything is still exactly the same it was when she left, which only makes her heart heavier. Same pink walls, same bed sheets, same furnitures.

Same pictures plastered everywhere.

_She needs to be alone so she can let her pain take over._

“I’m glad you came” by the door Alice is looking at her with wet eyes and Betty knows that her mother is about to cry so she rises from her bed too, smiling softly because she is not sure she can handle this other rush of emotions on top of everything else.

“Me too” Betty answers and she wonders if she is really lying or telling the truth.

Maybe both.

“I didn’t think you would.” 

Betty frowns and her heart skip a beat. Maybe her mother isn't that blind to all the pretending after all. _Maybe she never was._

“Of course I’m here” Betty clears her voice because she hates how unsure she sounds “It’s Polly’s wedding mom. I wouldn’t miss it.” 

And that’s true. Polly is her sister. After all these years and despite all their differences, their conflicts and fights, they had finally reached a normal relationship, _well_ , as normal as possible for them. Betty hates herself for it but sometimes she still has some trouble to look at Polly in the eyes. To just look at her. Everytime bad memories end up erasing the good ones.

Taking her daughter’s hand, Alice smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Betty knows she is worried and _terrified_. 

“I’m happy Elizabeth. But I’m also scared” and of course she is, Riverdale had never been kind to any of the Coopers “I want everything to be perfect.”

“I know mom. And it will be.”

_Well you hope it will._

Stupid voice. 

“I know it’s hard for you to be back here” says Alice suddenly and she is squeezing her hand so hard that Betty feels the physical pain echoing the one in her soul “first heartbreaks are always most painful.” 

_Definitely not blind._

“It’s fine mom. Jughead and I are good now. Well, kind of. As good as we can be.”

They had to. 

“I wasn’t talking about Jughead.”

Betty’s throat turns dry but Alice smiles at her softly. 

“It’s fine” repeats Betty but it’s weaker “I’m fine.”

“Good” but Betty can see that her mother is not believing any of her words by the way her eyes shine a little more and the way her hand is struggling to let her go. She does eventually. “Now get some sleep, you look terrible” and Betty knows that she is only half joking; the inside of her head is like a battlefield, she can’t look good on the outside.

How can she look fine when she feels so terrible?

“Goodnight mom.”

Except she can’t sleep. Her eyes are always drifting to the window, always drifting to the pictures. 

Always looking for him.

Being back here is like opening a door she spent years to keep locked.

_“Dear diary, today I fell in love with the boy next door.”_

Damn it.

_“I can’t stop thinking about you Betty. I tried to, but it’s impossible.”_

Her head is spinning. 

_“It’s a song I wrote. For you.”_

She glances at the window. Curtains are closed. _Well, what were you expecting Betty?_

Suddenly, before she even register it, her body moves by itself. She is grabbing the keys and her light denim jacket, violently avoiding the photos on her walls. 

She is starving. She needs a burger. And fries. And a strawberry milkshake.

_That’s not it Betty. And you know it._

She just want to feel safe. 

It’s a terrible idea. She knows it. 

But it doesn’t stop her.

#

_“dear diary,_

_I feel so wrong. In every way. And maybe it’s true, maybe something isn’t right with me. Why does everyone think that I am so perfect? I’m a fraude. I just feel empty; like one big lie that we tell ourselves to avoid to face our sad and miserable and twisted life. I hate that everybody thinks that I’m perfect._

_I hate that Archie thinks that I’m perfect._

_I hate that the only person I’ve always trust to completely be myself, the only person that doesn’t make me feel like I’m just unworthy of everything and everyone thinks that I am_ so _perfect. It makes me sick._

_He doesn’t love me. It hurts. And before yesterday night, Archie never made me feel that way, that empty._

_Is there something so unloveable about me?_

_I don’t want to keep pretending and smile because that’s what the perfect girl does. I don’t want to be perfect._

_I’m so wrong.”_

It’s definitely a terrible idea. 

That’s what her brain is screaming at her on the entire way there. But something pushes her, a feeling she can’t quite place. It’s a need she can feel in her bones, something she has to do because it’s the only thing she _can_ do. And, indeed, the minute she sees the lights of Pop’s dinner, her muscles relax and something inside her sighs with pleasure and relief. It’s a natural reaction; her body moves by itself, light and comfortable, and her mind is quieter. Voices aren’t making so much noise anymore; she breathes easily.

It’s a beautiful summer night. Some teenagers are hanging out on the parking lot, talking, smiling and drinking some milkshakes (among other things) and from afar Betty spotts two girls -a blond and a brunette- dancing and laughing together to the rhythm of a music she ears from where she stands. She can’t hold the smile on her lips nor the ache in her chest. This night reminds her of so many others. Best and worst.

Betty is still watching the two girls -they are hugging now-, debating on what milkshake she’ll order _-she knows the menu by heart, obviously-_ when one of the teenagers on the other side of the parking lot drops one of the bottles he had in his hand. The sound of glass shattering on the floor makes her jumps. It’s not rational, she knows it, but all she can hear is a gunshot. 

All she can see is blood.

A dead body; a dirty coffin; a black hood.

It’s not rational, she knows it. But her body shivers, tension running down her spine.

Breathing becomes hard again. 

Until it’s not. Until the other half of what makes her safe place _safe_ appears behind the window of the restaurant. Until she sees red hair. 

She is almost laughing at the timing. Surely this is a cosmic joke. Surely someone had _planned_ this. 

Her brain is surprised but not her heart. It’s like she already knew he was here, like she saw him way before; five years ago. The exact moment she sees him across the window is a blur because hundreds of pictures are crossing her minds, all mixed up and too fast for her to catch. 

Even after all this time, she can still feel Archie Andrews’ childish laugh clearly; she can still see the different shades of brown _-so subtle that she is pretty sure she is the only one who sees it_ \- in his eyes. She can still feel his lips on her.

Her body is shaking for entirely different reasons now. It comes from the inside, from her core.

New Betty Cooper is a fraude. A liar. A fucking _hypocrit_. She’s never stopped pretending. The truth is she is missing a part of her since she left Riverdale. The truth is that five years are nothing compares to eleven. The truth is that she isn’t over the guilt, the love, the heartbreak.

The truth is she can see Archie Andrews in her soul - _always have always will-_ and she can’t see any way out of this. 

The truth is that her heart never listen to her brain, and her brain never followed her heart. 

It’s the story of their lives. A window separating them, too many unspoken feelings; too much pretending. Always close but never really together; two tight lines that are never crossing path. Love and pain blending so smoothly it feels like destiny. 

Archie is not moving but neither is she. Good old brain wants to run away, heart stays paralyzed. Body cut in two all over again; two half that never want to meet and make peace. 

_“but I could swear by your expression_

_that the pain down in your soul_

_was the same as the one down in mine”_

She knew it was a bad idea. She is not ready.

 _So much for not pretending_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the title is from the song "Verso" from OK Button it was the one I was listening while writing (& well, big vibes from that song) & lyrics at the end are from the song “The Origin of Love” (Hedwig and The Angry Inch). big parts in italic are all the flashbacks. I know it's kind of messy but the truth is I write things as it comes to me.  
> hope it's not too hard to follow!
> 
> baci tesorini.

**Author's Note:**

> my brain just decided to write this so here it is. I just like writing and for once wanted to share. hope you'll enjoy.  
> also, english is not my first language.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or anything related to Riverdale or Archie Comics' world, obviously.


End file.
